


Someone Get Me To A Church

by MyChemicalFallOutBoyRomance



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Blasphemy, Costume Kink, Costumes, Dom Gerard Way, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Frikey, Kinky, Light Dom/sub, Name-Calling, One Shot, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Priest Gerard Way, Reader-Insert, Religion Kink, Rough Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spanking, role play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 23:10:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12736203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyChemicalFallOutBoyRomance/pseuds/MyChemicalFallOutBoyRomance
Summary: You move into a new house and meet your neighbours, the Ways, including gorgeous but nervous Gerard.They're having a costume party and you decide to accept their invitation.When you arrive it seems there's another side of Gerard you never ever imagined...





	Someone Get Me To A Church

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Catheadx](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Catheadx).



> Hi sweeties!  
> So, this fic is a product of a very dirty mind colliding with another dirty mind, a sleepless night and a very specific picture of Gerard Way dressed as a priest.
> 
> I went with the second person point of view again because it proved so popular in 'It Ain't Exactly What You Planned' I hope it's immersive enough and flows right (I'm not a fan of constant 'Y/N' though a fic).
> 
> This one is for you, Cindy *hugs*
> 
> You should know by now that I live for feedback (good and bad) so drop me a comment or hit me up on Twitter @MCFOBR
> 
> WARNING if you are easily offended, can't deal with blasphemy or just good old filthy fanfic writing then just turn back - it's not worth it!

You dump another box into the overcrowded front room and sigh. Moving house… never again. Unpacking feels like a mammoth task that can wait but you know you should probably make a start. You head back out to your car and grab the last box. 

Hands full, you try to kick the back door closed but miss. The action throws you off balance and you think you’ve dropped the box, feeling it tumbling from your grip but you don’t hear it crash to the ground.

“Let me get that,” a musical voice says and you realise the box was taken from you at exactly the right moment. A tall man with sleek black hair, cut just below his chin, has your box held close to his chest. He smiles in a friendly way and his hazel eyes sparkle.

“Thanks,” you say, incredibly grateful he was there. You slam the car door shut and put your arms out to collect your belongings.

“I can take it for you,” he says and turns to head to your house. You follow behind him, relieved to be letting your arms rest, and watch as he carefully places the box just inside your house without stepping inside.

“Thank you,” you say as he straightens up and turns to face you.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles at you, looking almost embarrassed, then rests his hands awkwardly on his hips. “I’m Gerard… Gerard Way.” 

Gerard offers you his hand and you shake it briefly, the gesture feeling too formal and stiff. You tell him your name and he nods, says how nice it is to meet you. 

“So, you just moved in?” Gerard asks then his expression tells you he realises what a stupid question he just asked.

“Yeah, today,” you say to save his embarrassment. He’s good looking, well dressed and completely your type… apart from the uncomfortable nervousness that surrounds him. You prefer your men a little more dominant, commanding. Shame, really.

“We’re having a party on Friday night… I mean, if you wanted to come and meet some people,” Gerard says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You and your girlfriend?” There was no need to say that, you could have just said yes or no but you’re curious.

“No, no,” Gerard says quickly. “Me and Mikey.” Gerard points to his own house next door and you see a tall guy with bleached blonde hair stood in the doorway, arms folded across his chest.

“Ahhh,” you say but that makes Gerard look even more panicked.

“My brother. We live together, me and Mikey, he’s my brother.”

“So who’ll be at this party?” You don’t want poor Gerard to blush any more so you try to move the conversation on.

“Me, Mikey… his boyfriend,” Gerard says, marking off the guests on his fingers. “I’ll be alone. I mean, some friends but nobody else. Like, Mikey’s gay but that’s it, not me, it doesn’t run in the family or anything.” Gerard laughs, the nerves getting the better of him

“Tell her it’s a costume party, idiot,” Mikey calls without moving from his spot.

“Yeah, it’s a costume party. I know it’s a little square but it’s Mikey’s birthday and his choice.”

“Not sure I have a costume. Or if I’d be able to find it anyway with all these boxes,” you say, remembering how much work is ahead of you.

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t. Most of my friends won’t be dressing up so don’t worry.”

“Maybe I’ll come along,” you say with a friendly smile. Gerard does seem like good fun, even if he is a bit socially inept.

“I’d like it if you did,” he says and blushes again.

 

The next day, you set to work sorting the upstairs of your new house. The bathroom seems the worst so you start there. It takes you most of the morning so by the time you move on to the bedroom you’re ready for a break.

You rest your elbows on the windowsill and gaze out at the view. The green trees beyond your house are just starting to change their colours with the season but today is sunny, a strong stream of September sun lighting the scene before you.

Your eyes stray over to the yard next door, the house where Gerard and Mikey live. Gerard’s out there, sunbathing. He’s laid on his back, arms behind his head and sunglasses covering his eyes. His only clothing is a pair of black shorts… very short shorts.

The sun gleams off his pale skin in an almost iridescent way, contrasting sharply with his jet black hair. You find yourself staring at him, memorising each part of his exposed body, wondering if his skin feels as smooth as it looks.

He sits up and even though he is facing away from you, you drop down out of sight. The shame over watching him was bad enough but your actions just make you seem even more guilty. You crawl out of the room anyway, just in case he looks up at your window.

 

You managed to unpack most of your clothes by the Friday and you definitely don’t have a costume. You were going to skip out on the party but you saw Gerard when you collected your mail that morning and he said how excited he was for you to come.

You desperately hope Gerard was right about some people not dressing up as you get ready for the party; you look good in your skirt and heels combo but if everyone else is in a costume then you know you’re just gonna feel stupid. A quick brush of your hair, squirt of perfume and you head over to the Way’s house.

“Hey, you came,” Mikey says, his tone surprisingly friendly as he answers the door. He’s dressed in a cheerleader outfit and you do a double take when you notice how good he looks in a skirt.

“Hi, Mikey,” you say over the music; it’s loud enough to be a party but not so much it inhibits conversation.

“Please, call me Sandy,” he says, twirling one finger around his hair. You laugh and he does too, much friendlier than he seemed two days ago.

“And you must be Danny,” you say to the short man by his side, guessing their couples costume instantly. The guy is dressed in a black leather jacket, collar up, and his black hair is slicked back. 

“Just for tonight,” he says, rolling his eyes and nodding in Mikey’s direction. “Frank,” he offers you a heavily tattooed hand to shake. As soon as you let go he snakes his arm back around his partner’s waist.

“Is Gerard here?” You scan the room briefly but you can’t see him.

“Yeah, in the corner,” Mikey says, pointing with his beer bottle. You see Gerard then and you’re not sure how you missed him before.

Gerard’s hair is perfectly styled and his eyes are watching you. He’s dressed as a priest… well, his top half is. He’s wearing a black button up shirt with a white clerical collar in place, a formal black jacket over the top. His legs, however, are encased in the tightest black jeans you’ve ever seen and you’re pretty sure if he wore them in public he would probably be arrested for indecent exposure.

You manage to raise your hand and give him a small wave. He nods back sagely, his eyes still raking over you, making you feel like he’s got x-ray vision. You shiver a little from his gaze, something about his presence seems so different from the nerdy Gerard you met before.

“Let’s get you a drink,” Mikey says and Frank cheers in agreement. You let them lead you to the kitchen where every bit of counter space is filled with some kind of alcohol. You open yourself a bottle of beer while Mikey and Frank return to the front room.

The kitchen is empty except a small group of men not in costume and discussing some killer guitar part from a song they clearly love. You sigh and take a huge mouthful of your drink; they don’t seem like your kind of people.

You head back into the front room, hoping you can spot Mikey and his boyfriend, not that you want to monopolise the host but you want someone to talk to. You feel Gerard’s stare so it’s no surprise when you look up that his eyes are locked on you.

You spot Mikey, he’s sat on Frank’s lap on the couch and both of their mouths are too busy for talking. Your know you can’t leave without speaking to Gerard so you take another drink and walk over to him; he watches you the entire way.

“Who comes to a costume party as a priest?” You didn’t mean to be so direct but the words were out before you could stop them. And it is a dumb costume.

“It’s a good choice. Helps me spot all the sinners,” Gerard says but there’s something different about his voice; it’s more confident, sexier somehow. Up close you can see his eyes are framed with black eye liner, it suits him.

“And, pray tell, how do you spot a sinner, Father Way?” You were aiming for sarcasm with the name but somehow it came off more seductive than anything.

“Usually by their clothing… short skirt, high heels, a top that barely contains their breasts,” he says as his eyes linger over your chest. “And of course, if you stare at them long enough they come right over to you.”

“You think I’m a sinner?” You finish your drink in another mouthful and put the empty bottle down.

“I know you are,” Father Way says in a whisper and it makes your stomach tighten in a delicious way. He places one finger on your collarbone and traces out the letters on your skin as he speaks “S… I… N.”

You shudder under his touch and he doesn’t miss it. There’s a wicked smile on his face and you briefly wonder where that shy Gerard has gone, not that you really care; you much prefer this version.

“And how do I absolve my sins?”

“Confess,” Father Way says simply, letting his finger trail across to the hollow of your throat.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” you say with a sly smile. “It’s been never since my last confession and my sins… well, there’s too many to name.”

“I can well imagine. Tell me of your most recent… transgression,” he says, letting the word roll on his tongue.

“I’ve been having impure thoughts,” you say, a little breathless as you realise how much he has reeled you in.

“Tell me more,” he says in a low voice, his eyes bright. You look around the room, realise how many people are around and how easy it could be for them to overhear you.

“I’m not sure it’s appropriate for company, Father.”

“Private confessional then.” Father Way inclines his head towards the stairs and then walks briskly in their direction. He doesn’t check behind him to see if you’re following, he knows you will be. You don’t even need to tell your legs to climb the stairs and it’s a good job since most of your brain is preoccupied with staring at Father Way’s ass in those tight jeans.

“How are those impure thoughts?” Father Way asks over his shoulder when he is nearly to the top.

“Getting stronger every second,” you say honestly.

You follow Father Way into a room and he closes the door behind you. It’s a bedroom, an ornate four poster bed dominating most of the space. You can feel him standing behind you, his back to the door, so you turn to face him.

“You know, when I was training to be a priest, I lived in Chicago. It was an enlightening time for me. If you ever want to hear about it all you have to do is say the word ‘Chicago’ to me and I promise to immediately stop whatever I’m doing and tell you about it. Do you understand me, sinner?” Father Way’s eyes burn into yours as he speaks and you smile. The fact he managed to get a safe word into play without breaking character just turns you on more.

“I understand completely,” you leave off the ‘Father’ so he knows you really do get it.

“Then on your knees for confession,” he says with a smirk. You slip off your shoes and drop down to the carpet with your hands behind your back. “Tell me about your impure thoughts.”

“They happen every time I see you, Father Way. Wednesday, today… yesterday,” you say without thinking.

“Yesterday? I didn’t see you yesterday,” he says with one eyebrow raised curiously.

“No, but I saw you,” you admit.

“Where?”

“In the yard. You were sunbathing,” you say, looking up at him through your lashes. He doesn’t look mad, just amused.

“So we can add voyeurism to your list of sins. And what were you thinking when you saw me yesterday?”

“How smooth your skin looked, I thought about how it would feel to touch your chest.”

“And what impure thoughts did you have this evening?” Father Way asks, his voice frustratingly calm.

“It was mostly about your jeans,” you say and swallow hard.

“What about them?” Father Way’s tone is teasing, he already knows the answer.

“How… tight they are,” you say as you drop your eyes to the floor.

“Look at them,” he commands and you instantly snap your head back up. Father Way puts one hand on the back of your head and pushes your face against his groin. You feel the roughness of the denim on your cheek, his dick starting to firm up underneath. You draw in a breath though your nose and it fills your head with the scent of him.

“You like my jeans,” he states, his voice confident.

“Yes, Father,” you whisper, painfully aware of how close your mouth is to his cock.

“Good.” He releases your head and you take a deep breath. “On your feet.” You struggle upright as quick as you can and he looks pleased.

“Now, about your sins. You saw me without my clothing, I feel it’s only fair that is paid back. Remove your top, now.” His tone is harsh and you are scrambling to undress before he even finishes speaking.

“My bra too?” You let your top fall to the floor as you speak and catch Father Way starting at you.

“I think so, sinner,” his words make you tremble and you can barely get your fingers to work the clasp. “Much better,” he says when you finally manage to remove it.

“Thank you, Father,” your voice shakes as much as your body.

“And for your impure thoughts. I think there’s only way to deal with that sin.” Father Way walks over to the bed and sits down on the edge, still keeping his eyes locked with yours. “Over my knee, you need a spanking.”

His words make your mouth go dry and stomach twist; how the hell did he manage to hit upon your biggest kink? You force your legs to move forward, not stopping until you reach him. You bend and he guides you down over his lap then lifts your skirt up to expose your ass.

“Do you want me to count them off, Father?” You want him to know it’s not your first time, that you can handle more than a gentle tap… he looks more than capable of delivering a satisfying slap.

“Yes… ten I think,” he sounds like he’s musing on the amount but you know better than to speak back to him. He brings his hand down suddenly, catching you across both cheeks and making you gasp; partially from the shock and partially from the power.

“One,” you say in a breathless voice. You hear him chuckle under his breath then he’s striking you again, the perfect force to liquefy your insides.

“Two,” your voice betrays you and lets him know how good he is… like he didn’t already know; it’s clearly not his first time either. You count off the next few, your voice getting weaker and your breathing more rapid each time.

“You sure you can handle the last three, sinner?” Father Way says, his tone almost mocking after it takes you two attempts to say ‘seven’. You can feel his erection digging into your stomach.

“Yes, Father Way,” you pant, desperate for him to spank you again. He brings his hand down again, a little harder this time and it makes you moan; you can’t stop it even though you clamp your lips shut immediately after.

“Oh, sinner! What was that?” Father Way is waiting for an answer but you can’t speak. “Are you enjoying this?”

“N…” you think about lying but then realise it’s useless. “Sorry, Father.”

“This is your punishment,” he says with a disappointed edge to his voice. You feel his hand slip between your legs, you know what he’s looking for and that he’ll find it. One long finger traces the damp patch on your panties and you try to keep your breathing steady.

“Sorry, Father Way,” you say again, knowing it won’t make a difference. You feel him move your panties to one side then two fingers push inside you. A moan rips out of your throat again and you squeeze your eyes closed.

“Your pussy is dripping, you whore,” he says against your ear. You shudder from his lips, his words, and he pulls his fingers out. “Stand up. End of the bed.”

You get to your feet, surprised you have the strength to hold yourself up. You walk to the foot of the bed then stop, facing the door. You drop your head and clasp your arms behind your back, showing your subservience. He stands and walks to stand in front of you. Through your lashes you see him shrug out of his jacket then roll up his shirt sleeves to the elbows.

Father Way rests his hands on his legs and you can tell which fingers have been inside you, they glisten against the black denim. He slowly drags his hands up his thighs, leaving a damp trail, until his hands rest on his hips. He looks completely different to the last time he stood like this; now he’s in control, in command... confident.

“There is only one thing that can save you now. You need to be fucked. Hard. By a priest,” Father Way enunciates each word and you nod in agreement.

“Yes, Father Way,” you murmur, daring to look up at him.

“Lucky for you, I’ve been having some impure thoughts myself,” he admits. “They started the first time I saw you. I thought about how your lips would feel against mine.”

Father Way crushes your lips with his own, easily working your mouth open and working his tongue against yours. It’s the first time he’s kissed you and it’s so much better than you imagined, more urgent, passionate.

“I thought about how your skin would feel against mine,” he continues when he pulls his head back. “I thought about how it would feel to pinch your nipples. I thought about how you would look with your lips around my cock. I thought about your pussy.” He slips his hand between your thighs and rubs his hand against you. You know he feels how big the wet patch has gotten and your legs start to shake.

“Sorry, Father,” you whimper.

“I think we need to get rid of these.” He doesn’t wait for you to agree, just yanks down your underwear in one harsh movement, letting them drop to the floor so you can step out of them.

“Thank you,” you’re not even sure what for but it feels like the right thing to say. He ignores you.

“I thought about watching you as you writhe beneath me. I thought about the look on your face as you come undone just for me, because of my words, my touch… because of this,” he takes hold of your hand and presses it to his groin.

You can’t help the whimper that escapes you but Father Way doesn’t hear you, your needful noise is drowned out by his groan. His hand is still around your wrist and you rub your palm against him, savouring the feel of his twitching cock.

“I thought about how you would sound, begging me,” he says, suddenly staring into your eyes.

“Please fuck me, Father Way,” you say in a quiet voice, knowing it’s what he wants to hear.

“Say it again,” his voice is rough, eyes intense.

“I want you, Father Way. Please fuck me.”

“One more time.” His chest is heaving and you can hear his breath coming in bursts.

“Please, Father Way. I need you inside me, I need you to fuck me,” you say, not only because he demanded it but also because it’s true. His hand makes short work of your skirt, tugging it down without bothering with the zipper.

“On the bed,” he growls and you comply, no hesitation. “Open your legs for me, whore.”

As soon as you’re on your back, your legs apart, Father Way climbs onto the bed. He uses his knee to nudge your legs wider and unfastens his jeans; Father Way isn’t wearing underwear so once his zip is down he is fully exposed. In your fantasies you always imagined him a with a huge cock… hey, it’s a fantasy so why not?... but you are stunned to see your filthy mind was right.

Father Way knows, he sees your eyes trained on his open jeans and he smiles smugly. He grabs your hips and pulls you down the bed towards him, letting his cock rest against your waiting pussy. You realise he isn’t going to undress any further; he’s keeping his jeans on and his shirt, collar and all.

“You wanna say grace, whore?” Father Way says, pressing up against you but not pushing inside.

“For what I am about to receive, may the Lord make me truly thankful,” you recite with a smile.

“Amen,” he snarls then buries himself in you. You both moan, finally getting what you both want, need.

Father Way collects your wrists and holds them on the pillow above your head. He drives forward, slamming into you and making the bed shake. You moan as he stretches you, relentlessly pounding into you while you try to keep up.

“Please… Father,” you pant, a moan overtaking you and cutting off your next word.

“What, whore?” Father Way is breathless too but he doesn’t miss a thrust as he answers you. He squeezes your wrists when you don’t reply, reminding you he is control.

“Harder,” you beg, biting your lip because you know it’s not your place to be making demands.

“So… so full of sin,” he rasps but he grabs your thigh and lifts your leg up to his hip. You sense the permission and wrap your legs tight around him, the rough denim grazing your soft skin with each thrust.

“Can I?” It’s getting too much, the roll of his hips, you can’t form the question but you know you need to ask.

“Not… until… you… ask… properly,” he punctuates each word with a powerful drive of his hips.

“Father…” you whine then groan when he thrusts deeper.

“You need… to sin, whore?” Father Way pants, staring into your eyes. You nod your head frantically, your stomach tightening. “Then fucking ask, sinner.”

“Please, Father…” you try again, knowing it’s going to be too late soon. “Please… can I cum?”

“Yes, whore. Cum for me,” Father Way says in a low voice. You don’t need it but he lets go of your leg and pushes his hand between your bodies to rub you. His thumb only just hits you when you squeal, clenching around him then you feel yourself release over him.

“Good girl,” Father Way pants. He lets go of your wrists to stroke your cheek then you feel him stutter. His hips start pumping to an erratic rhythm then he grunts and fills your already soaking pussy.

Your body quivers, the aftershocks of your climax still ripping through you. Father Way stays inside you, waiting for his breathing to return to something resembling normal.

“Maybe I should start going to church on a Sunday,” you say breathlessly when Father Way pushes himself off you.

“For a sinner like you, I recommend a daily confessional,” he says with a smile on his face and a wicked glint in his eyes.


End file.
